The Prestigious Tournament
by City Slicker
Summary: Harry & Co. are invited to Isengard to participate in a tournament. Probably sucks, but that's ok... just read it and tell me what you think


EPILOGUE  
  
This is my first fan fic. That's not supposed to mean anything, just wanted to let you all know. Anyway, read & enjoy, or read and don't enjoy. This story will probably have four chapters, but I may add more or cut it short to three. Once school starts again, I won't have much time to update.  
  
DISCLAIMER  
  
The characters belong either to J.K. Rowling or to J.R.R. Tolkien. You know which belong to whom. I did not create any of these, nor did I come up with the places.  
  
--------------------------------- CHAPTER 1 - The Invitation ---------------  
------------------  
  
Harry, Hermoine, and Ron were among those who stayed at Hogwarts over the summer this year. Fawkes wasn't feeling too well, so Professor Dumbledore had decided to stay, and he didn't give a damn whether others followed his example.  
  
In the Common Room, Harry was lying on the floor, looking at the ceiling not doing much (in fact, he wasn't doing ANYTHING) while Ron and Hermoine were listlessly poking around in carp soup, which they had brought up from the Great Hall; nobody knew why since neither of them was hungry, and the soup wasn't good, either. But hell, they didn't have anything to do, so they might as well be poking around in carp soup. Obviously, they were all bored to death.  
  
Finally, Ron broke the silence.  
  
RON: Man, what a lame day. This summer sucks butt. There's nothing  
to do in Hogwarts. And this soup makes me wanna puke.  
  
HARRY: At least Malfoy isn't here. That bastard always gets on my  
nerves. *getting up  
and shaking his fist* If I see him before school starts, I'll kick  
his ass! I'll rip  
his guts out! I swear, I'll --  
  
HERMOINE: Yeah, whatever, Harry. You're a sissy, and you know it.  
  
RON: *starts giggling*  
  
HARRY: What the hell?! How did I get that reputation? I bet Draco is  
behind this shit.  
Next time I see him I'll beat him up muggle-style. He won't know  
how to deal  
with that.  
  
HERMOINE: Draco has nothing to do with this. It's your glasses. and your innocent  
look. and the fact that everyone feels sorry for you 'cause you  
don't have any parents.  
  
HARRY: That's bullshit! Bring'em on, I'll show them who's the tough one!  
  
RON: I hate to say this, Harry, but all you've got is you scar. No abs, no broad shoulders,  
nothing. Hell, you don't even have facial hair yet!  
  
HARRY: So? Does that mean I can't be tough? That I can't kick some ass? DOES IT?!  
  
Just when the discussion began to get out of control, the hole to the Common Room opened, and Professor Dumbledore entered. He looked rather pleased and excited.  
  
DUMBLEDORE: *holding up a letter* Hey guys, check this out!  
  
HARRY: I hope this is important, Prof. I was about to demonstrate my toughness here,  
you know.  
  
DUMBLEDORE: THIS *holding the letter so close to Harry's face  
that Harry noticed a nasty smell, wondering whether Professor  
Dumbledore used toilet-paper. (This almost caused Harry to  
join the club of future pukers)* This is our ticket outta  
here. Forget lying around like a bunch of cows. We're going  
to participate in a prestigious tournament seeking the  
wisest, the slyest, and the toughest individual on the  
planet. *Obviously excited and with childishly shining eyes*  
What do you say?  
  
HERMOINE: What? Where? Who?  
  
RON: What about Fawkes??  
  
HARRY: Yeah, I can show everyone that I'm made of steel! Yeah!  
  
HERMOINE: Just read the letter, man!  
  
DUMBLEDORE: It's traveled a long way. Kinda hard to read,  
too, 'cause the handwriting sucks. And look at this *showing  
them a pink envelope* this is pretty gay, don't you think?  
*getting off topic* And check the format out, guys. Five by  
five inch? It's a square, what the --?!  
  
HARRY: Get yourself together, man.  
  
RON: Just read it, dammit!  
  
DUMBLEDORE: All right, I'll just read it.  
  
'Dear Professor Dumbledore:  
  
As a member of the ASS (short for the Authentic Sorcerers  
Society), you are entitled to participate in a prestigious  
tournament seeking the wisest, the slyest, and the toughest  
person on the planet. I know -'  
  
HARRY: *interrupting* Participate in a prestigious tournament bla  
bla bla. You didn't  
even put it in your own words. You suck.  
  
HERMOINE: He said 'individual', not 'person'.  
  
DUMBLEDORE: *ignoring Harry's comment*  
  
'I know you cannot leave the three children alone in  
Hogwarts, and I therefore -'  
  
HARRY: *spitting on the floor* Children! Maybe Hermoine here, but I'm almost a man!  
And tough as one anyway.  
  
HERMOINE: You wish. Stop pretending, Harry.  
  
HARRY: You want a piece of me?!  
  
RON: Shut the fuck up! Let the old man read.  
  
DUMBLEDORE: As I was saying.  
  
'I therefore grant you permission to bring them to the  
tournament, whether as contestants or audience shall be  
determined later. You (and perhaps your students) will  
compete with characters from LOTR, such as Gandalf and  
myself. You don't need to know more at this point. The  
contest will be held in Middle Earth. All participants are to  
meet me at Isengard as soon as possible.  
  
Love,  
  
Saruman  
Head of the Council'  
  
RON: Love? Pink envelope? Is there something we should know, Prof?  
  
DUMBLEDORE: What? No, no. He's just trying to be nice, I think.  
  
HERMOINE: Whatever. But what about Fawkes? That's why we're still here, after all.  
  
DUMBLEDORE: He's fine. Caught fire a couple of days ago. I think he's over the worst.  
  
HARRY: Why do we have to go to THEM? This licks balls! Don't those bastards have  
the guts to take us on on neutral ground?  
  
RON: *nodding in agreement*  
  
HERMOINE: Harry, why are you always so aggressive?  
  
DUMBLEDORE: It's all right, Hermoine. His testosterone level  
is a little high. That's normal for boys this age. They are  
always hyper, as if they were on drugs all the time, you  
know.  
  
RON: I'm not hyper.  
  
DUMBLEDORE: Then you're not norm-- .well, you. I don't know.  
  
HARRY: Who cares? What are we waiting for? Let's roll! 


End file.
